


closer now, and closer still;

by belgard



Series: these are the days of our lives [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Slow Dancing, brian and freddie are just mad for each other uwu !!, fred is an art major and bri is a physics major so that's That, freddie and brian are lovesick couples, kensington market days!, medical student!rog just because that's Soft, roger is single but ! he'll find his chance at happiness at the end, somehow they're all in the same college so try and work that out for yourself, they deserve the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belgard/pseuds/belgard
Summary: fred, come to my house after?the note reads, scrawled neatly in brian’s elegant handwriting, right on a piece of paper ripped from a page in his notebook.in between monochromatic nail polishes, slow-dances in the afternoon, and sickeningly-sweet kisses, freddie and brian are making their way in the midst of all youth has got to offer in love.





	closer now, and closer still;

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i'm writing another queen fic, and i'll let you know that i have a spin-off of this story ready and just waiting for some more adjustments and extra scenes. i'm shaking my head rn, but i haven't written this many in just the span of one or two months since 2014. thank you for clicking! i hope you'll enjoy it!

 

 _Fred, come to my house after?_ the note reads, scrawled neatly in Brian’s elegant handwriting, right on a piece of paper ripped from a page in his notebook.

 

Freddie turns his head to face his _boyfriend_ – how crazy is that! – and sends him a smile, his cheeks blossoming with scarlet from the sheer though of having to spend the rest of his day with _his_ lover, _his_ favourite Physics major, _his_ Brian. He would’ve never thought that he’s end up with him, but alas that is what happened, and he lets his heart lead the way instead of thinking about it too much. Things happen because they just _do,_ and even with Freddie’s never-ending desire to solve the world’s mysteries, he just can’t happen to solve this, and honestly, he’s alright with that.

 

They met through Roger, one of their closest friends, right at Kensington Market when Brian went to visit their stall without any intention of buying anything, but only to say hello. The meeting was a little awkward and sudden, but Roger was _ecstatic_ ; he was overjoyous when he went on to grab both of the then-curly haired stranger and the Art student’s hand to meet them together and have them shake it out. Freddie remembers vividly how odd Brian’s hand felt—soft yet harsh, perhaps callused. That was before he knew that Brian plays the guitar. They smiled at each other then, not knowing of what’s to come.

 

Looking back at it now, Freddie wants to laugh. Because _really_ , the eccentric Freddie Bulsara and the ridiculously calm Brian May getting it on? Even Roger said it was the strangest thing ever when he first saw the couple holding hands together after they made it official.

 

“Fred and Bri?” Roger quipped then, a saucy smile plastered on his face. “The gods must’ve went mad!”

 

“You’re so bloody dramatic.” Brian rolled his eyes, but Freddie could see his reddening cheeks. It made _him_ flustered in return.

 

“I’m just so happy!” Roger exclaimed, before running up to them and gathering the new couple in a hug. Brian perhaps didn’t know what to do, and all he did was pat the blond’s back like a little awkward fellow.

 

“There, there,” Freddie said calmly, though the corners of his lips are pulled up into a little smile. “It’s nothing outrageous, darling. We’re just like any other couple on the streets.”

 

“Yeah, but you two look adorable together!” Roger told them. “I would’ve never guessed it. Never, never.”

 

“Well,” Brian made jazz hands, his cheeks remaining the pretty scarlet shade, “we’re a thing, now.”

 

“I’m happy for you lot,” Roger said with a grin, before it slowly faltered as he shrugged, and Freddie took note of this. Roger had the tendencies to pretend to act nonchalant about everything – and he still does now – and it is as frustrating as it is vexing, but even then Freddie understood. “Although it makes me a little bummed, because well, y’know…”

 

Freddie reaches forwards then and cupped Roger’s cheeks. “You’ll find someone, dear,” he assured, and he was sure of that. “Trust me.”

 

Roger only shrugged, even though the gleam in his eyes revealed that perhaps a little spark of hope was still there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Freddie had taken up the Art subject for his major, and he aims for his degree, trying to do his best after moving to England with his family. His interest has always been art anyways, so he thought it would be a waste not to put it for good use, even though liberal subjects or majors are a bit difficult to execute after one graduates, because at the moment, art is only starting to be seen as an advance in society and not _just_  a movement with no results. He’s glad for it, he feels like his passion actually _means_ something to the world. It  was rather a fresh start in the midst of doctors and engineers.

 

When he first met Roger, the latter was a dentistry student, as ridiculous as that seemed. But Roger excelled in it, he was clever, even when he has the tendency to wander off at night on a prowl, looking for someone new to spend the night with. Freddie never judged him, even coming along with him once in a while—the life of the party is _always_ a wonderful escape from school pressure. He loved Roger then, he loves Roger now. Roger seemed like the perfect friend for him when they first met each other, and if he hadn’t met Roger, he would _never_ meet Brian.

 

The thought of his world without Brian just seems suffocating for some reason. He needs that curly-haired bastard next to him, sending him that shy, crooked smile that looks the prettiest at day.

 

And perhaps far prettier at night.

 

Brian is a Physics major, so it is almost _impossible_ to see each other at the same class. But somehow, Freddie discovered that his minor is Art, so whenever he finds Brian walking into the Art History lecture room, he just has to bite back a smile  from the sight of those long legs that seem to go on for _miles_ striding into class. Brian is _so_ tall, and perhaps he knows about it and wants to flaunt it, because once before they were dating, Freddie saw him walking to class with a cropped shirt and a black varsity jacket that’s just _too_ small for him, along with a pair of black high-waisted flare trousers that almost – _almost_! – made Freddie’s jaw drop. Brian’s father is a rather sophisticated, proper-mannered man, and his dressing choices always reflected that. When Brian first walked into the Art History class, he was dressed in a blazer and dress pants, looking _exactly_ like some of the poshest lads around, so perhaps anyone could understand that seeing Brian _May_ in a cropped t-shirt was a bit of a shocker.

 

(And also, a sight for sore eyes.)

 

Brian was _brilliant._ He was beautiful and smart and clever and it all came upon Freddie like an avalanche. The desire of always wanting to be near Brian was inevitable, and every time they’re together – simply just talking to each other, telling each other stories about themselves and about the passion for art that they share, it’s no doubt that Brian had taken its own place right in Freddie’s heart, refusing to leave, and frankly, Freddie didn’t want him to. Brian was awfully sweet, and he was considerate even when they were still acquaintances. They shared the same interests, and even though some parts of their music tastes clashed with each other, they embraced it, they embraces the differences. Freddie couldn’t keep Brian out of his mind for _months_ , of all the smiles that Brian had sent his way, of all the pretty flutters of Brian’s eyelashes that he probably didn’t realise that he had the habit of doing so, of all the small chuckles that sounded like wind chimes, of the sound of Brian singing lowly to himself. Freddie had never felt _this_ strongly before for someone else.

 

Whenever they shared the class, Freddie would always take the chance to flirt _endlessly_ with the poor lad, even if sometimes they do more damage than good because of how cringe-inducing most of them are. But never once had Brian asked him to fuck off, and Freddie appreciated it very much. After consulting Roger, Freddie finally had the epiphany that he had a major crush on the curly-haired Physics major, and that he’d do anything to win his heart.

 

That day, he hadn’t known that Brian wanted him just as much.

 

 

 

 

 

✉

 

 

 

 

 

 

The moment they open the door, they’re immediately met with a strong scent of something baking in the kitchen. Pastry, or something else that kind, that’s for certain. This isn’t a strange occurrence, as Brian’s mother Ruth is rather keen on baking and cooking, trying hard even though she often remarks that she isn’t good at it, although her dishes always turn out wonderful. A modest woman, Ruth is, and Freddie always admires her for it.

 

The couple walk over to the kitchen and see Ruth standing near the small kitchen island with a giant metal mixing bowl in her hand. She’s holding a wooden spoon, and she’s stirring her concoction with fervour, sweat beating on her forehead. The woman seems so focused in her work that she hasn’t even noticed the two boys entering her space. When Brian knocks on the island twice, the woman stops her stirring and slowly looks up, before a grin forms on her face.

 

God, Freddie _adores_ Ruth. There’s just something so lively about her that he just can’t quite put his finger on. It’s as if she has forgotten about her age at all.

 

“Bri!” she exclaims, and Brian walks over to her, kissing her cheek, before her gaze travels upon the person standing next to her son. Her expression lights up like a Christmas tree, and her red lipped grin grow wider. “Freddie!”

 

Freddie smiles up at her. “Mrs May,” he says with a nod.

 

She frowns  at him. “I thought I _told_ you that you’re supposed to call me Ruth,” she says, and Freddie knows about that, he’s just taking the piss. It’s oddly entertaining to see Ruth lose her temper, even though it’s just a _slight_ bit. “‘Mrs May’ makes me feel old.”

 

“But you _are_ old, mum,” Brian says with a grin, rolling his eyes.

 

Ruth flicks a piece of her mixture towards Brian, but the latter ducks away just in time to avoid the ambush. Ruth groans at that, before she focuses back on her giant mixing bowl.

 

Her curly-haired son leans over her shoulder and looks gown at the bowl with curious eyes, asking, “What’re you making, mum?”

 

Ruth shrugs and sticks a finger into the mixture before she laps it right onto Brian’s cheek. He just closes his eyes, sighing as he receives the ambush half-heartedly. Freddie tries hard to supress his grin, there’s just something sweet about the sight of his lover and his mother.  “Souffle,” she replies ruefully. “I still haven’t got it.”

 

Brian grabs her shoulders and sways her a little. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to it, mum.”

 

Ruth smiles up at her son. “Yes, I know I will too,” she says, before she cocks her head towards the staircase. “Go away, you two. You’re making me feel short.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Here, look at this,” Brian says, before he bends down a little to reach the bottom of his bed, and Freddie looks a way for a moment after seeing Brian in such a position that makes him a little flustered. As bold and brash he might seem, Freddie is weak-kneed putty when it comes to Brian.

 

 

Brian emerges with  a little square basket that he places between them, right on the floor, and he says, “Bought some of them yesterday.” He shrugs. Freddie looks down and starts to take out its contents, which consists of a bottle of black nail polish, white nail polish, some thin cotton pads, and a tall bottle of polish remover. The little bottle of black polish manages to catch his eyes, and he reaches for it, looking at the little tube-shaped bottle. “I was a bit shocked when the lady recommended the colours for me. She said monochrome shades might look good on my nails.” He makes these hand motions that show off his long fingers. “I wasn’t quite sure, though. There was this sparkly blue one at the store that I wanted to get, but I just wanted to try something simple. After seeing you with nail polish, I wanted to have it on me, too.”

 

Freddie remembers the moment he showed Brian his newly-manicured nails, then painted on a bright peach shade that he thought looked outrageous. Brian kept on staring at them, as if he had never seen them before even though Ruth wears them. Maroon is the colour she fancies best.

 

Freddie keeps his gaze on his lover, never once faltering. There’s something oddly calming about Brian speaking—just listening to the sound of his warm voice and the sight of him, rambling on and on about things that aren’t about his school matters just looks so, so interesting. His eyes often get lost in his own words, traveling vastly from one spot to another in a frenzy of fluttering eyelashes. It isn’t like Freddie doesn’t find him as interesting whenever he talks Physics and Astronomy – in fact it makes him so attractive, just showing off how smart he actually is – but most of the time Freddie doesn’t understand a _single_ thing.

 

Though the shape of Brian’s lips whenever he speaks is pretty enough to focus on, but of course that is besides the point.

 

“So,” Brian’s voice wakes him from his little train of thoughts, “what d’you think?”

 

Freddie moves to cup Brian’s cheeks and turns it to face him properly, before he plants a kiss right on Brian’s lips, full-on. He never wants to waste his time whenever he’s with Brian, he wants to live every single moment as if it’s their  last. Brian makes a short noise of surprise when they come in contact, but that feeling melts into warmth, and the curly-haired boy eventually sighs into the kiss, trailing a hand from Freddie’s arm and up to his long hair, brushing it back. Freddie wants to pass out—there is always _something_ about Brian when he kisses, something so distinct and so unlike any other lovers he has ever had. Brian is sweet, _so_ sweet, that it makes his chest hurt and his head dizzy. He wants to pull Brian closer and closer until they doesn’t have any more space left, until it’s just the two of them, nothing else.

 

When Freddie’s hand starts to fall upon Brian’s thigh and squeezes the cloth-covered flesh, Brian eventually pulls away with a chuckle and a little shake of his head. Freddie stares at him, a little confused in the state of haze he’s in. Everything seems so fuzzy and soft.

 

“Some other time, love,” Brian says, before he reaches over to brush his thumb against the surface of Freddie cheek. Freddie leans his head into the touch, feeling heat gathering in his cheeks, certain that they are embarrassingly scarlet now.  “Mum’s downstairs.”

 

Freddie shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to, darling,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

 

Brian then laughs and pulls the older boy closer until they are shoulder-to-shoulder, with Freddie’s head eventually dropping sideways to rest it upon Brian’s shoulder. “You’re so adorable, Fred,” Brian says, the pitch of his voice going slightly higher at the end of his sentence. “No, _don’t_ be sorry. You have absolutely no reason to be. Some other time I’d take you up on that offer, yes, but perhaps not now when Mum’s just cooking up dinner right below us.”

 

Freddie laughs at this. “Yes, maybe I shouldn’t have.”

 

“That’s fine, though,” Brian says softly. “Might give you that raincheck later.”

 

Freddie snorts and reaches to hit his boyfriend’s arm with the back of hand, Brian eventually wincing.

 

“What’s _that_ for?” Brian whisper-screams.

 

“Nothing,” Freddie says. “You’re just being a prat, that’s all.”

 

“Fuck off.” Brian laughs.

 

“Don’t ever deny it, darling,” Freddie says, putting his hand around Brian’s arm and clutching on it. Brian’s limbs are long and lanky at best but they’re perfect on him, Freddie just wants to hug him all the time. “But that’s one of the reasons why I like you so much. I haven’t found anyone that’s much more of a prat than me.”

 

“I am, then? I guess I’m special,” Brian retorts, and Freddie smiles at this, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. His curly-haired lover turns his head to face him, and he’s looking at him with the softest pair of puppy eyes Freddie has ever seen. “Aren’t I?”

 

Freddie feels his smile blossom into a full-blown grin, and he reaches over to pat on Brian’s mop of dark hair. “You are.”

 

Brian then exhales and clasps his hands together. “Fine, then,” he says. “Now that’s settled, I want to wear my new polishes. Show me your ways, my Mister Mercury.”

 

“Okay,” Freddie says with a snort at the sudden nickname, as he’s making twinkling hand movements over the contents of Brian’s new nail polish basket. “I call dibs on the black one. You wear the white one. We’ll be the cutest couple on campus with our nails.”

 

“Oh, you sappy bastard.” The younger boy rolls his eyes, although the corners of his lips are pulled up into a small smile.

 

“Shut up,” he replies swiftly, already twisting open the tube of the black nail polish. He pulls the top up, revealing the polish-coated paint brush. It’s a little thin, but that’s alright, he doesn’t really like those new gel ones, after all. They’re far too tricky and takes way too long to dry.

 

“I don’t think I can put it on for my right hand,” Brian warns, voice tinged a little with that sounds like hesitance.

 

“Don’t worry,” Freddie answers calmly. “I can’t do it too. We’ll just both have it on our left hands only.”

 

“Alright then.” Brian shrugs, the corner of his lips pulled up into a smile.

 

“Okay,” Freddie lifts up the cap of the bottle and places it just above his own fingernail, “just do it like… _this_.” He places the end of the brush from the base of his nail bed and drags it towards the tip. He continues to do so with the edges until it looks neat enough. Brian watches his hands with squinted eyes, and then proceeds to replicate Freddie’s  actions on his own index fingernail. Freddie smiles at the sight, his boyfriend _far_ too focused in painting his nail than anyone should be.

 

But it’s okay—Freddie likes him focused. Brian just looks painfully cute whenever he is.

 

When Brian is done with each of his five nails, he lifts it up for Freddie to see, an expectant look plastered adorably on his soft face.

 

“How’s that look?” he asks, raising his eyebrows slightly.

 

Freddie nods in approval, a smile forming on his lips. “Fantastic.”

 

Brian _beams_ at his praise, and Freddie reaches over to pinch his lover’s cheek with his unpainted right hand. Brian winces at this, scrunching up his face in discomfort and perhaps annoyance.

 

“You’re adorable!” Freddie exclaims, eyes softening at the sight of the younger boy, so distressed at the cheek-pinching situation. “Don’t look so bothered, darling, you _really_ are. What was I supposed to do?”

 

“I’m not!” Brian whines, shaking his head like a child, in turn his giant ball of curly hair shakes along with him. Freddie almost coos.

 

“If you insist, dear,” he says softly, before pressing his shoulder against Brian’s once again and leaning his head against the younger boy's shoulder. There’s something about Brian that never fails to make him feel at home, as weird as that sounds. He makes him feel comfortable, wherever he is, and Freddie cherishes that trait about Brian, wishing he can make the latter just as good as he makes Freddie feel. Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t deserve Brian, but with every kiss that Brian presses on him, he slowly thinks that perhaps they’re _just_ for each other.

 

A match? Perhaps.

 

That doesn’t matter, because as of now, the scenery of Brian under the yellow glow of the falling sun behind his windows just makes him feel all kinds of warm. Brian sighs, and he follows suit. The atmosphere of Brian’s room is always comforting, because it’s not too small, yet not too big. It’s spaced in _just_ right, giving them a sense of intimacy yet some sort of distance that makes them want to get closer to each other, just to close up that distance. They always do this, sitting on top of the carpet on the surface of the room’s floor, shoulder-to-shoulder whilst music is carrying out its tune through Brian’s little brown turntable that he once bought from a shady-looking man. It still works though, he said, and Freddie agrees—it still sounds smooth, even though sometimes scratches _do_ get caught up and the melody stutters, but overall it’s a decent player. Accompanied by the vast selection of vinyls Brian’s father owns, they just try to make the daybreak theirs.

 

“Are they dry yet?” Brian asks quietly, breaking the soft silence. Brian then reaches sideways and twirls a strand of Freddie's long hair, before he lets his hand falls once more. 

 

Freddie shrugs, before pressing a kiss right on the edge of Brian’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he replies. “Touch your nail gently, see if the colour transfers.”

 

Brian lifts up his fingers and presses on one of the nails, appearing a bit hesitant at first before he just goes for it. When he pulls away, he turns his finger and sees that nothing has transfers on it. He turns his head towards Freddie and grins. “It’s dry!”

 

Freddie returns his grin. “Wonderful!” he exclaims. “Seeing that yours are done, I think mine’s as well.”

 

Freddie grabs his lover’s painted hand and places it next to his. “Look at that,” he says. “Aren’t we just the _most_ powerful couple, darling?”

The curly-haired boy chuckles, as he tilts his head slightly to rest it upon Freddie’s.

It’s usually just like this—of them spending their evenings by the two of them, sometimes with food supplied by Ruth. They don’t need extravagance, expensive dates or lavish gifts for each other. Just _this_ , it’s all fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brian reaches over to his side and takes out a vinyl from a rectangular basket, taking out _Rubber Soul_ by the Beatles. He drags his turntable until it’s much closer to them, and he lifts up the top, sticks the disk in, and turns it on. He presses on the buttons, biting down on his bottom lip, before he finally reaches the track that he wants—“Michelle.”

Smiling, the curly-haired boy stands up and offers a hand down to Freddie, an expectant expression plastered on his face.

Freddie looks up, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Mr Bulsara, may I have this dance?” Brian appears _so_ genuine that it makes Freddie giggle. But alas he tries to keep up with this bizarre role-play. He _can_ be regal, yes, he can. Perhaps today he’d be a baron.

 

“Well, Mr May, don’t mind if I do.” He sends Brian a wink along the way, smiling when he sees the latter’s cheeks reddening slowly. Brian in scarlet is always the prettiest sight.

 

Freddie takes his lover’s hand in his, and Brian pulls him up until they’re flushed together, laughing at how ridiculous this all is. It doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t, when peaceful guitar strums fill the room and every pulse in their bodies are just thrumming – _begging_ – for them to dance. Brian places a hand on Freddie’s waist, and the latter places a hand on Brian’s shoulder, before they intertwine their other hands together, smiling at the contrast of their black and white nails, on each other’s bodies. For a moment then, it feels like the world stops moving just for them, that time is only theirs and no one else’s. They can stop it, they can reverse it, they can make it travel forwards until they see nothing but withering leaves outside of Brian’s window. That’s alright, Freddie thinks to himself, even the sight of the afternoon sun is _nothing_ compared to how Brian looks like this, close to him, right next to him, holding him. Freddie often wonders how in the world could he manage to experience something like this, such simplicity yet it’s _all_ he wants.

 

With Brian he feels invincible – well, he already feels invincible before, but with _him_ , he feels like they could take on the world, just the two of them. He doesn’t know what makes him feel like this, so, _so_ besotted with someone else that he just can’t bear the thought of not having Brian. He wants to be able to hold Brian, always, to know that he’s alright. And for Brian to know that he has made Freddie feel alright, too.

 

More than alright.

 

Here they are, with Paul McCartney serenading just for them, the lovesick couple of London. They’re touch-starved and full of undiscovered feelings, but they make it work. They delve into it together, they look for it at the same time. Even at times where they don’t even know what they’re looking for, they feel content just being next to each other.

 

“Bri?” Freddie whispers, resting his head on the younger boy's shoulder as they sway together to the music gently.

 

“Hm?” Brian hums a reply.

 

“I love you,” Freddie declares. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

 

Freddie feels Brian smile against his skin, before pressing a kiss on his temple.

 

“I love you too, Fred.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They drop down to the floor when “Michelle” finishes, sighing in unison before Brian starts to laugh.

 

“Why are you laughing?” Freddie asks, running a hand through his own hair, messing it up a little bit. “I think we’re quite the pair of dancers.”

 

Brian shakes his head, but the pretty smile remains.

 

“It’s nothing,” he replies, eyes raised to look right into Freddie’s eyes. “Just thinking about what song we should dance to next.”

 

Freddie laughs, before he leans forwards to press a kiss right on the curly-haired boy’s cheek.

 

“Sweet, you are,” he says, caressing Brian’s cheek softly, smiling when the he feels the latter’s skin warming up beneath his hand.

 

Upon hearing that, Brian suddenly sits up, his eyes widened in comical surprise. Freddie’s hand fall down to the floor immediately, a little startled by his lover’s action.

 

“Which reminds me,” Brian says. “I was craving apples and honey.” Before Freddie can say anything, his lover is already up on his feet and walking towards the door. “You stay here,” he says. “Just…stay. I’ll bring them up for us.”

 

Freddie laughs, making shooing motions with his hands. “Fine! Off you go, dear,” he says, and then the door closes.

 

Freddie leans his head back against the edge of Brian’s bed, closing his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brian emerges from the white door with a tray in his hands, with a bowl of freshly-cut apples and a jar of honey on the surface. He’s grinning, until his eyes are all squinted and his cheeks are lifted up. Freddie feels his own heart stutter, as a smile starts to grow on his lips as well.

 

“They’re here!” Brian exclaims, kicking the door close behind him. He walks over to Freddie and sits down on the floor, placing the tray between them.

 

He picks up an apple and dips it into the honey, before he plucks it into his mouth and smiles, closing his eyes as he hums happily. Freddie never understands his lover’s obsession with apples and honey, but seeing him like _that,_ looking so content, he doesn’t want to question a thing. He picks up an apple of his own and dips it into the honey, before biting into it as well. It’s sweet, he thinks. Not in the overwhelming sense but sweet, the simple kind of thing that Brian likes.

 

“The apples are surprisingly fresh,” Freddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Are they new?”

 

Brian nods as he’s munching on his snack, looking no happier than a child on Christmas. It’s a lovely sight, and Freddie wants to keep it forever.

 

“Come here, darling,” Freddie whispers, before he caresses Brian’s cheek and leans in, pressing a kiss right onto the surface. He chuckles when he feels the younger boy tensing under his hand, skin heating up just beneath Freddie’s palm. He hears the sound of Brian’s apple falling from his hand and to the ground, finding nothing but amusement at his lover’s adorable display of surprise. Sometimes he’s shocked at Brian’s innocence and boyish attitude – even though he tries hard to conceal them – and seeing as they’ve been together for quite a while now, Freddie has never been with someone who is _so_ flustered by intimacy, yet at the same time loses his mind over it.

 

When Freddie pulls away, he feels his heart stutter at the sight of his lover, with scarlet cheeks and wild eyes. Beautiful, he is.

 

Out of nowhere, Brian suddenly crawls over to him and grabs his face with both of his hands, pulling Freddie over for a fierce kiss, nothing like what Freddie did before. Freddie gasps for a moment, seemingly at loss of the all too-sudden situation, blinded by heat and the feeling of Brian’s hands on him, the mindless nature behind it and Brian’s intent of quenching his greed.

 

Freddie returns his lover’s kiss with equal fervour, his eyes almost rolling back into his head when he hears Brian whine beneath his lips. Brian places a hand on Freddie’s shoulder and squeezes on the clothes skin, the fire bursting right though the fabric and into Freddie’s wellbeing. At this moment the intent is _set_ , they’re sure of what they want and they want it now. Freddie loses his own composure, mind in a blind haze, and he moves to swing a leg over Brian’s own pair, eventually straddling the other. He grins when he hears Brian’s breathing hitch.

 

Again, the innocence seeps right through, and all Freddie wants it to smash all of that into a ruin.

 

Sex isn’t foreign for the two of them—they’ve had it countless times before and they’ve had it together, but each time they do it’s never the same. They bask in it, wondering what else they might be capable of doing, wrecking this world of theirs by their own hands, their own desires. It’s a lustful mind, but they’re glad for it. They figure things out for themselves, for each other.

 

Brian spends no time in grabbing Freddie’s chin and pulling him for another kiss, and all Freddie can think about is how terribly sweet Brian tastes beneath his tongue, how soft he is between his lips, and how maddening this all is. Brian’s hands travel downwards, settling themselves on Freddie’s waist, albeit not without a bit of hesitance. _Sweet_ , sweet Brian, Freddie thinks to himself.  The feeling of Brian’s hands on his body is electrifying, and it just almost makes him lower his hips a little, but he refrains himself from doing so, determined to take things a bit slow in the midst of all the velocity.

 

“What about Ruth?” Freddie asks for a moment, gasping slightly for air as he bites back his grin, leaning away even though he knows Brian wouldn’t give a damn at this point. That’s the thing about Brian—he’s calm and contained and _so_ full of self-control, but if he has one thing that he wants, it blows all of his fuses, that’s all he craves and he’ll get it. Freddie loves that, he loves that about the curly-haired boy with what seems like wide, innocent eyes, those pretty pair that looked serene before they’re clouded and hazy, hypnotising and alluring.

 

“I’m giving you that raincheck _now_.” Brian rolls his eyes before he continues nipping onto the column of Freddie’s throat, hands pressing and squeezing at every single spot like he’s just as desperate for it. “I don’t care about Mum, she could hear for all I care.” Freddie’s face scrunches at that, because god, that visual is revolting _._ But Brian’s desperation takes him out of his own mind, and the younger boy is just his for the night. “I just want you _very_ , very much.”

 

Groaning with frustration, Freddie grabs his lover’s chin and forces him to look up, but not before the latter has the chance to dip a finger into the jar of honey right on the tray next to them.

 

“Kiss me, Bri, come on,” he mumbles against Brian's lips, feeling the latter inhaling sharply as he lifts up a honey coated finger and brings it up to Freddie’s lips, coaxing the other to open up for him. Freddie obliges, and he sucks the honey right into his mouth, closing his eyes at how terribly _sweet_ it tastes. His toes curl at the feeling when his tongue presses on the surface of Brian’s skin, his body hot all over. He’s only human, after all, and the need to control himself is getting harder by the passing second.

 

His lover slowly takes out his fingers, his breath stuttering against Freddie’s lips.

 

Brian leans forward to kiss him deeply, making these little noises that sounds sweeter than anything else—sweeter than honey.

 

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me, Fred,” Brian mumbles almost drunkenly, a groan creeping up beneath his velvet-like voice. Freddie’s knees go weak at how his gorgeous lover sounds, and how he _looks,_ god. He wishes he can take a picture of Brian right now—his cheeks flushed deep scarlet and lips rose-coloured in the most alluring shade. His eyes are half-lidded, eyelashes dusted over his sharp cheekbones. The adorable, soft hazel eyes are laced with something darker, something that makes Freddie feel riled up beyond his control. They’re young, they’re desperate, they’re far too keen on getting each other’s clothes off that nothing on their minds matter if it’s not of each other, and this little world that they own, right here in Brian’s room.

 

And he’s sure Brian’s feeling the exact same thing.

 

“You already killed me, darling,” Freddie whispers, voice heavy with desire.

 

Succumbing to the pulsing heat, he leans over and rips open the front of Brian’s shirt – the white buttons flying everywhere – with nothing on his mind except from the endless thought of Brian that has never once left his head.

 

 

 

 

✉

 

 

 

 

The whites of Brian’s bed sheets are soft, Freddie thinks, and the sight of Brian with softer eyes is one of the most breath-taking things he has ever seen.

 

Brian’s skin is warm, and his lips are rose petals. Freddie smiles at his lover, pressing a finger against his bottom lip and feeling himself lost at the beauty. Lost in everything, their post-coital high is driving madly in their veins, and all they can do is look at each other, blinking their eyes slowly. _One, two._ Brian’s hair is an absolute _mess_ , and Freddie can’t help but to giggle at it, running a hand through the pretty dark curls.

 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Brian warns, his voice still raspy from their previous endeavour. Freddie thinks it’s one of the most attractive sounds he has ever heard, the effortless allure behind it making him mad.

 

“I’m not,” Freddie smiles with flowers in his heart, “you look ridiculous, love, that’s all.”

 

Brian smiles, shaking his head before he buries himself under the covers, as if he’s swallowed by his own blanket.

 

 

 

 

 

 

✉

 

 

 

 

 

“I wrote a song,” Roger declares to the couple out of nowhere one morning in their stall at Kensington Market. Brian and Freddie both turn in unison to face the blond with raised eyebrows. Roger just looks so  _terribly_ ecstatic about telling them about this so-called song that even Freddie himself can't help but to wonder what's it about. “You wanna know what it’s called?”

 

But before the couple can even reply to his question, they are disrupted by the sight of something moving in a flurry.

 

Suddenly a long-haired boy stumbles  upon their stall with a briefcase in hand, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flower shirt under a dark brown coat. There’s a ruby-red rose brooch stuck on the breast of his coat, perhaps made by leftover ruffle fabric. He looks very distressed, eyes wide and cheeks flushed beyond end. But the boy is _adorable_ , especially with his soft features, red cheeks, and wide eyes. Even _Freddie_ wants to squeeze the boy’s cheeks and hug him until he is out of harm’s way. The boy's brown hair looks soft under the morning light, making anyone who has their eyes set on it want to ruffle the boy's hair or run a hand through it.His hair is just a tad bit messy, perhaps because of all the running that he did even when he first arrived here. When Freddie looks sideways, he can actually   _see_ Roger’s clear blue eyes sparking with interest. That expression alone means something for certain: Roger has a new target.

 

“Excuse me,” the boy says  then, voice soft and a little melodic. Roger still has his eyes fixed on this poor boy, and when Freddie realised that, his own eyes immediately go wide, even from his peripheral vision he can see Brian turning his head to face him, a confused expression plastered on his face. “Do you perhaps, um, know a place where I can find some spare parts? Used, new, I don’t really care that much. You see,” the boy lifts his black briefcase, all knocked up and covered with colourful stickers, “I’m making an amp!” He’s grinning widely, until his eyes are smiling, too.

 

Roger sits up straight then, slightly leaning his body forwards in a – painfully – blatant attempt to flirt with the poor boy. “Oh, are you?” he asks, the tone of his voice lilting with the very intention that Freddie knows best.

 

The Amp boy nods innocently.

 

“What were you looking for again, dear?” Freddie asks instead, before sending Roger a warning look, and the Amp boy looks at him, cheeks still flushed. Freddie then points a finger towards the boy’s briefcase. “Are you making an amp out of a briefcase?”

 

“Ah, um, I’m looking for spare parts,” he replies, albeit a little shyly. God, all Freddie wants to do is pinch his cheeks. “Tiny ones. And no, I’m not! My list and parts are in here.” He lifts up his briefcase for more added adorable measures.

 

Roger already stands up and starts to walk around the sitting couple until he’s not inside the stall anymore, with Freddie’s attempts to pull him back by his blazer failing miserably. The blond bastard even swats Freddie's hand away, turning his head briefly to send the latter a warning look. Roger turns his attention back to the boy almost immediately, his expression sweet and boyish. 

 

“I know just where to find it,” Roger says, walking closer towards the boy with a kind of strut. “In fact, I can _show_ you.”

 

The boy looks down under Roger’s blue-eyed stare – that Freddie knows can be _quite_ irresistible to some people – and smiles at the ground.

 

“Would you... like that?” Roger asks, looking up through his eyelashes at the boy, and Freddie face-palms, with Brian patting his back in sympathy.

 

The boy’s cheeks go even _redder_ , if that’s even possible. To Freddie’s eyes, he’s less of a boy and more of a ripe tomato. “I think…” he trails off, finally looking up to smile at the blond. “I think I’d like that.”

 

“Wonderful!” Roger exclaims, before he cocks his head towards the oddly calm street. “Shall we?”

 

The boy nods, before bidding the seated couple goodbye. Brian sends him a wave and Freddie sends him a smile.

 

Freddie shakes his head, eyes following the retreating pair.

 

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Brian whispers next to him with his annoyingly democratic voice. The curly-haired boy places his hands on Freddie’s shoulders, squeezing them a little bit. “Maybe he’s the one for Roger, who knows.”

 

The younger boy shrugs, thinking over his lover’s statement and how the probability _may_ be possible. He doens’t mind it, though, not at all, in fact he _wants_ Roger to be happy. He doesn’t want the blond spending the night with a beaut and then looking for another one the next night, it’s just a bit painful to look at  even though Freddie thorougly understands that Roger fancies quick flings, the ones with no strings attached at all—nada. But he also knows that Roger wants something _serious_ , something long term, if the drunken chats at Freddie’s home can appear as proof of that statement. No one but Brian and Freddie knows that Roger’s lips are a bit prone to telling people what he really means whenever he’s inebriated.

 

Freddie wants him to be happy, he really does.

 

“ _Maybe_ , darling,” Freddie says to him, a smile growing on his lips. “Maybe. God, I hope he is. That blond prat has been lonely for _far_ too long.”

 

Brian nods in agreement, before he trails one of his hands down Freddie’s arm to clasp it right onto Freddie’s hand, looking at how they fit together like a puzzle.

 

The forward blond and the coy brunet have disappeared into a hazy line, blending right into the crowd as they’re looking for whatever it is they’re looking for. Perhaps they’re looking for empty spots in each other’s hearts; perhaps they’re only looking for the Amp boy’s spare parts and nothing else. Freddie hopes for the former, and he hopes they’ll manage to work it out.

 

And looking down at his own hand, intertwined with Brian’s, he hopes that Roger can find something just like this.

 

Whatever this is.

 

One thing for certain, love is all he’s feeling whenever he’s with Brian, and maybe that’s all he needs.

 

Maybe that’s all _they_ need.

 

And frankly, that’s more than enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @deaconism if you wanna holler


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